


Burn Down The World

by greenofallshades



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenofallshades/pseuds/greenofallshades
Summary: Captain John Graves Simcoe hopes to find lodging for the night, despite Anna Strong's established loathing of him.  Runaway emotions and inconvenient truth-telling lead to a union that's tempestuous, to say the least.





	Burn Down The World

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place around the time Simcoe returns to Setauket in Season 3, after his fight with Robert Rogers. I took some liberties with Anna's location at the time, but hey...it's fanfic, and OTPs need to get together somehow.

Anna Strong didn’t even take the time to throw on her dressing gown. The pounding on the tavern door was so insistent that she flew down the stairs, half-awake and bleary-headed, to see what on earth might be happening.

She opened the door to find the man standing there whom she least in the world wanted to see, and her head cleared as suddenly as if she'd been slapped.

“Mrs. Strong, my apologies for disturbing you at this hour, but I would very much appreciate a room for the night,” Captain Simcoe said, speaking rapidly, as though to forestall her objections.

“I’m sorry, but no,” was her short reply, as she started to close the door, but a boot inserted just in time prevented it.

“Move your foot, Captain, and leave me be!” Anna said angrily.

“Please,” he said quietly. “Mrs. Strong. My men and I are just back from a long, rather frustrating mission. Tomorrow I shall go to Whitehall and inform Judge Woodhull that I will be residing there for the foreseeable future. But for tonight...you may take my weapons to protect you and lock yourself in your room if you find my presence so disturbing,, and I shall sleep here on the floor. My men are already billeted elsewhere.” He shrugged. “Since I have stayed here before, I thought…”

Anna was staring at him uncomprehendingly, , having heard only the first part of his plea before being thunderstruck.

“Why would you be living at Whitehall?” she demanded.

The captain hesitated; she could see that he was trying to maintain an earnest expression. But he couldn’t prevent the hint of a smile from playing around his lips. “I am the ranking officer in Setauket now that Major Hewlett has fled us for kinder tides.”

Differing emotions warred for control of Anna---anger at this insufferable man; shame that he apparently knew what had happened between her and Edmund (at least to some degree) and alarm with the realization that he would be here in Setauket, all the time, now.

And she had helped bring about the situation.

Leaving him there at the door, she turned and walked slowly into the room, her legs suddenly shaky and loose. She stopped before the fireplace and stood there with her arms crossed around her body. Simcoe interpreted this as a chink in her resolve, and so he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Anna turned. “Captain Simcoe, I did not invite you---” and her voice died in her throat. He was was dirty and unshaven, with a gingery scruff bristling his strong jaw. His copper-colored hair was messed and unruly, a wavy errant lock falling onto his forehead. Tall and broad-shouldered, he filled up his corner of the room in an imposing manner. Unwelcome thoughts presented themselves, and she tamped them down firmly. She realized she had forgotten what she was saying.

It truly was striking how much better the green coat suited his coloring...

Anna became aware that she was standing in front of the lamp on the hearth, wearing a very thin nightdress. The silhouette of her body, illuminated from behind, was likely on display to the smirking pest.

Of course it was; the expression on his face confirmed it.

Anna’s conflicting feelings boiled over in a surge of hostility. Her animus was directed only partially toward Simcoe. Most of it was for herself, for this self-created situation she found herself in. Already she was dealing with sore recriminations for having led on a kind, guileless man she knew she could never love. Now she saw that she was trapped by her own actions. Now every day of her life here in Setauket would be plagued by John Simcoe and the attendant feelings she desperately wanted to deny. And there would be no one to shield her, no one to distract her.

“You might at least affect some propriety,” she snapped, seeing his gaze travel up her doubtless well-revealed body. “Do you see why I don’t want you here? You just can’t restrain yourself, can you?”

As she looked at him, she saw his sea-blue eyes turn glacial. “This old refrain again,” Simcoe said flatly. “Mrs. Strong, my acquaintance with you has been one long, exhausting pilgrimage of restraint. You simply have no idea.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Isn’t it clear? What do you think I---”

“From what, exactly, have you had to restrain yourself?” she demanded . “What are you talking about? Have you entertained thoughts of harming me? Not that it would surprise me if you had.”

Simcoe’s face hardened. He crossed the space between them slowly and stood, towering, looking down at her. “Is that what you believe?”

Anna stood her ground, craning her neck to look up at him. “Why would I not? You’ve brought harm to enough people since you set foot in these colonies.”

A smile completely devoid of humor lifted the corners of his lips without ever touching his cold eyes. “We’re going to speak candidly, then. Very well. Your dear Edmund wasn't quite a shining beacon of virtue during his sojourn on these shores, but you were willing to overlook all of that. I suppose his charms were too intoxicating to resist. Though I admit I'm at a loss to imagine what it was about the man that captured your attentions. Not very fond of the masculine traits, are you, my dear?”

“I wouldn't expect you to understand the attractions of decency and honor,” she shot back. “Nor of genuine, pure emotion.”

The captain stared at her for a moment. “Yes. Doubtless that would be something I’ve never experienced.”

Words tumbled out of him then. “How long did you dangle the prize in front of our poor Major before you just couldn’t bear any more of his soliloquies and his refinements and his vapid, milquetoast attentions? Before your genuine, pure emotion for that Scriptural beacon compelled you to leave him at the altar? I imagine he’ll spend the rest of his life regretting that he came so close to actually having a woman.”

Heat washed over Anna, making her tremble, making her face flush and burn. She clenched her fists so hard that her nails bruised her palms. “You see,” she said in a low tone, trying and failing to keep her voice steady, “This is why I turned you away. Why I never wanted you. Never could want you. You’re the lowest of men. Yet, vile as you are, you’re emboldened to place yourself above a man of good character. You know nothing of honor, except to disdain it. What makes you think I would allow a man like you into my life?”

Hurt flashed briefly across the captain’s face. Her words had found their mark and left a wound, but quickly the pain was replaced with a merry smirk.

“Absolutely, Mrs. Strong! I am singular in the depth of my moral rot and my corruption. I am the demon who walks among the angels of Setauket. But I remind you that irreproachable Edmund was engaged in questionable business schemes with the magistrate, and that it was he, your cherished Major, who refused you when you appealed to him for help, who freed your servants with no thought of their futures, and who, essentially, stripped everything you owned from you. Your man of virtue was happy to see you destitute in the street.”

“Get out of here. Just leave. I don’t want to see your face again.” Anna was choking on her rage.

“Don’t you? While we're exploring inconvenient truths, let us also not forget that you, my dear, are not as pure and unblemished as you present yourself. Despite your lofty righteousness, recall that you and your cabbage farmer made a continual practice of deceiving that man’s good wife.” His lip curled in contempt. “Adulterous rutting on kitchen tables precludes moral superiority, Mrs. Strong.”

“Damn you!” she shouted. Maddened, she pushed against his broad chest with all of her strength. And again. He didn’t budge, and his expression of surprised, mocking delight, eyebrows raised, infuriated her all the more.

“Get out!” She shoved ridiculously against his towering bulk, knowing he was immovable, but unable to govern the violent emotions he produced in her.

“At least the Woodhull boy had a crude barnyard idea of what to do, but the Major---I imagine a few of his traipses into the field to stargaze had you waiting and wondering when he might assert himself, and dreading it at the same time because he probably wouldn’t know the first thing about bedding a woman and pleasing---”

Anna silenced him with a crack of her hand across his face. For a moment, at least. Simcoe laughed, and it was a laugh of pure amusement. She struck him again. Unthinking, completely caught in a tangle of emotion, she would have hit him again, but this time he caught her wrist and held it.

“‘I will always believe that your pledge to rescue the Major was a lie. You set a trap for him and you hoped to murder him,” she panted. “You’re a menace to everyone who crosses your path. I was a fool to---”

“To what? To come to my room, all flushed and dewy eyed, your fetching bosom heaving at me, hoping your charms were so irresistible that I would do your bidding? I remind you, that was the night after you cut me down with contempt. Yet you were willing to whore yourself out to me for dear Edmund, and you thought you were dealing with a fool who would leap at the chance.” He smiled. “I’ve never believed you were truly afraid of me. You fear your secret desires. You fear they might consume you.”

Caught as she was, unable to get away and in such close proximity to his towering bulk, she shivered, but not from fright. Her eyes roamed over his face; she saw the scruffy ginger beard on his large, chiseled jaw, and a smudge of dirt on his temple underneath the tousled auburn waves. The thigh pressed against her body was hard muscle, born of endless riding. Her lips parted, and her gaze involuntarily dropped to his mouth. He saw, he understood, and the grin that spread over his face made her want to kill him.

Yet she could feel her body betraying her, just as she’d always been afraid it might, if left too long alone and in close quarters with John Simcoe.

How was it possible that a man could provoke such contradictory passions, one extreme as burning hot as the other?

The captain bent her head back so that she had to look him in the face. “You fool, have I ever done anything to harm you?” he asked quietly. “What have I done besides offer you my protection and my devotion?”

Anna, distracted as she was, thought back to the chilly, damp morning in the town square, when she had been looking up at him in just this way. He had crushed her to him and kissed her then, possessing her, marking her as his own in front of everyone. Of course that had been the intent. A dart of resentment pricked through her daze; in response, and to try and get a hold on herself, she tried to twist away from him, but his grip was firm. Fresh anger took her and she kicked his leg as hard as she could----hardly painful, since her foot was bare---and spat a curse at him.

Shaking, half-dizzy with conflicting emotions which tore her one way and another, she snapped, ”If you have everything figured out, then you’re even less of a man than I thought for not claiming me as your own. A man of mettle would have done so.” This brought an incredulous yelp of humorless laughter from the captain, but she blazed on, knowing she was hardly making sense.

“I’m finished with this! And with you. This is a waste of my time when I could be sleeping. I’m not interested in your conceited assumptions, and I want you to go. Now. You can sleep at the bottom of the riverbed for all it matters to me, and if I need the services of a man, I’ll find a willing stable boy. I’ll be better off.”

“You infuriating little bitch,” he gritted. “You are a bitch, you know. Did Edmund ever dredge up the courage to impart that little scrap of wisdom to you?” He yanked her close and kissed her, hard.

His tongue pushed its way into her mouth and she, God help her, could not keep from responding. A moan slipped from her throat and she pressed her body against his, having only moments ago wished him dead. His mouth traveled down to the vulnerable hollow of her throat, scruffed cheek scratching painfully-pleasurably against her soft skin, and her hands, freed now, found themselves gripping his wild curly hair.

Anna shivered as his beard tickled her ear, and she felt his teeth nip her soft lobe. Simcoe ran his hands down her body, over her breasts, down over the swell of her hips. Dimly in her mind, she knew she should resist, should make him leave, but the way he handled her precluded rational thought. She took leave of her mind and resided in her body, in feeling and sensation, as his large hands slid over her bottom, her flesh separated from his palms by only the thinnest tissue of fabric.

He was kissing her again, devouring her with no care and no gentleness. Now she felt his touch on her belly, trailing down between her thighs to the place he’d made wet and hot, cupping her there.

This was really going to happen. How could she want a man dead, yet want him inside her, making her come?

But did she really want to see him dead? Had she ever? Or was that her mind’s ultimate, inarguable effort to convince herself that she didn't want him?

Yet he could infuriate her like no other human being.

“Wait,” she gasped. “Stop.” The word took a moment to register with his lust-fogged brain, and she pushed him in the chest again, with all her strength. “I said STOP, damn you.”

Simcoe stood silent, his face hard. He dropped his hands and she hastily backed away. Her cheeks were flushed, lips ravaged and red, and the nightdress had slipped off one shoulder, leaving her breast nearly exposed. The white skin of her throat and bosom showed the burn from his beard growth. Anna’s mind raced as the standoff between them lengthened.

At last the captain spoke. “I’ve waited long enough for you, Make your decision, or we can wish each other to hell and never look upon the other again. And if it's no, then attend to your clothing. You look indecent.”

Anna’s gaze fell to Simcoe’s crotch, which was tented and strained by his constricting trousers. And she dived off the cliff.

“Then prove me wrong,” she said in a low voice. She gave a little shrug. “If you’re up to it.” They both knew, of course, that she alluded to the harsh (and low) expectations of him she'd once revealed. “Make it worth my time.”

The captain’s face lost none of its impassiveness, but she could see that the challenge was accepted. In a few long strides, he reached her and stripped the nightdress from her body, tossing aside the rag and leaving her naked in front of him. The brutality of the action made Anna gasp, but her body was shocked by a wild thrill, centered between her legs, which flashed heat all over.

As though reading her mind, Simcoe began to explore her sex with his fingers, making her moan. No kissing, no ceremony, just rude possession of her most private area...with her naked, fully exposed, and him still clothed. It was lewdly thrilling.

“Perhaps I should find that stable boy,” he mocked, as he stroked and circled and made her squirm. “From the feel of things, I think he could get in without any trouble. If you’re this wet for a man you hate, an inoffensive laborer should find his path as slick as ice in January.”

In response, Anna drew down his head as if to kiss him, but instead she savagely bit down on his lip. Simcoe yelped and drew back. Blood trickled down his chin; he touched the wound, looked at his red-stained fingers, and then at her. A smile spread across his features which would have struck cold fear into the hearts of many men, but Anna saw it and her body burned with a lunatic combination of rage and desire.

Simcoe shoved her against the wall; he grasped her face hard with one hand, and kissed her so roughly she found herself needing to breathe. A hard muscled leg pushed apart her thighs; her bare back and ass were scraped into the timbered wall. He didn’t care if he hurt her and she was beyond caring herself.

Callused hands kneaded her breasts and painfully tweaked her nipples. “Brute,” Anna mocked.

“Says the wench who just drew my blood with her own teeth.” And then he was fucking her with his hand, and she cried out, thrusting her body forward. He had her pinned, so that was the limit of her movement.

“Will this be all?” she gasped. “You, fully dressed, with me on your hand? Afraid to show me your shortcomings?”

Simcoe’s lip curled; he stepped back long enough to remove his weapons and shed his layers of clothing. When he his trousers came down, exposing his erection, his gaze never left hers. His insolent expression testified to his confidence that she could be no less than impressed.

Anna looked on, hating him but forced to admit to herself that he indeed made a handsome appearance in his state of nature. And, judging from the look of things, her satisfaction wouldn't be a concern.

She approached him and stood in front of him, looking appraisingly at his body and craning her neck to meet his gaze. Cupping his manhood in her hand, she seemed to weigh it as if to judge it wanting or sufficient. Her expression dared him to respond.

Simcoe startled her by picking her up under his arm like a sack of grain and depositing her unceremoniously on the nearest rough-hewn table, drawing from her a little cry of protest. He yanked her down to the edge, making her yelp again, and pushed her thighs open.

“A little care, damn it,” she cried. “You don’t have to be an animal.”

“Only if you’re lucky,” he replied, “Besides, come off it. This is who you are, my dear. The mild, mannerly Major never understood your true nature. Your farmer might have had some idea, but no boy could ever satisfy you.” Simcoe leaned in, pressing the tip of his erection against her clit. Anna leaned back on her elbows and took in a long, ragged breath, biting her lip, loving the friction.

She lifted her pelvis and pressed closer, needing friction. “That’s right. That’s my Anna. You need a big cock, don’t you...not a stargazer and not a boy farmer.”

Lost in sensation as she was, Anna was nevertheless incensed all over again. “Damn you, will you STOP!”she shouted, and lashed out at him with her leg. He grabbed it and held it, so she kicked with the other leg, but the result was the same. She was held firm.

“You see how right I am?” said the captain, laughing. “Now I’m going to drop your legs, and if you kick me again, you little shrew, I’ll---”

“All right! Enough! Stop talking. Get on with it,” she cried.

Simcoe pushed her back and bent over and began to suck and lick her hardened nipples. His erection remained where it was, teasing her clit, making her shudder whenever she moved. Anna thrust herself against his cock as he devoured her breasts, as he cupped and squeezed. When he grazed her nipple too roughly with his teeth, she let out a yip of protest, and was rewarded with low laughter.

“Shameless,” he jeered. Guiding himself between her thighs, he pushed inside her. Anna moaned deep in her throat and threw her head backward. He began to thrust, and she could hear the uneven table legs thumping the floor, felt the jarring, could hear the deep-throated exhalations which accompanied each stroke. She spread her thighs as wide as she could to take him in all the way.

“Do you like it? Does it feel good, Anna?” Simcoe panted.

“Yes...God, yes…”

“Are you close?”

“Soon...just don’t stop…”

But that was what he did.

The captain pulled out of her and stood back. Anna looked at him wildly. “What are you doing? Why did you stop?” she demanded, her nerves jangling at his body’s sudden abandonment of her own.

“Finish it yourself,” he said contemptuously.

She goggled at him with incomprehension.

“Finish, and let me see.” Simcoe’s body was sheened with sweat, and his erection was undiminished, but the bastard seemed not to care. He stood there, grinning in that way of his which made her want to throw something at his head.

There was a moment’s pause as Anna digested what he’d said. He had stripped her, thrown her on this table and splayed her out like a whore, and it had all been a vengeful ploy. Like lightning, she was up off the table, launching herself at him, cursing, scratching, kicking. Her body throbbed for completion, but her desire to hurt him was even stronger. This was all a game to him, a plan to humiliate her. Rage, fueled by interrupted passion, made her insane.

She got in a good slap or two of his face before he took control of her. Simcoe pushed her down onto the floor and got on top of her. With one of his hands he held her wrists above her head, and his legs straddled her, effectively immobilizing her.

“You continue to prove me right about your true nature,” he breathed.. “I’m going to release one of your arms, and I want you to do as I said. I want to see you touch yourself. You know you want to do it for me, Anna. Don’t you?”

“My God, I loathe you,” she breathed.

“Believe that if it comforts you, even as you allow me to fuck you. Do it.”

Her hand crept down between her thighs and began to touch and stroke her most intimate parts, which were open to the captain’s brilliant gaze. He watched her silently, straddling her, his erection still rock-hard.

Anna moaned as she labored to make herself come. Unconsciously she squeezed her thighs together, pushing her clit forward, her body straining. She couldn’t deny that it excited her to pleasure herself in front of him. Then suddenly her hands were pushed away, her ass was lifted and jerked forward by strong hands, and once again she found herself filled by his cock. She almost sobbed with relief.

He fucked her as if their lives depended upon it---hard, deep thrusts, plunging in and almost out of her, which drove her against the plank floor, His breath came in desperate grunts, and she cried out each time he drove into her body, parting it, possessing it. Simcoe grasped a handful of her hair; her nails, in their wild clutch, drew blood from the skin of his shoulders.

Pent-up, long-nursed pain, fury, disappointment, and humiliation found their release. It was revenge sex. Simcoe pistoned his hips as though to punish her for the suffering she had inflicted, and Anna’s malevolent eyes were a challenging reminder that he was nothing to her but a battering ram for her orgasm, and if he failed at his task, she would wither him to pieces with her contempt.

Sweat trickled down Simcoe's naked body as he furiously pounded into her, and through her haze of lust, she feared he might tire before she came. Likely not, but---

“Pull me up,” she cried.

Beyond thought, the captain jerked her forward, his cock slipping out of her body, but sliding back in when she straddled his lap. Anna rode him hard, gripping his sweat-slicked shoulders, digging in with her nails and causing pain he barely felt.

The pleasure was rising swiftly to a peak now, and she chased it, rising to rotate her hips so that his shaft found her most sensitive place.

The interruption of momentum was not mutually welcomed. Growling, Simcoe rose with her in his arms and slapped her against the wall, so that she had to wrap her legs around his body.

“Let us not forget who is fucking whom,” he panted.

Anna was very close, and when Simcoe resumed his thrusting with her body supported in his arms, she simply came, crying out with the violence of it. Her legs spasmed and tightened around him, and the clenching of her inner walls around him made his own orgasm follow moments later.

Sweating and spent, they disentangled themselves from one another. Simcoe lowered her down and set her feet on the floor. Neither spoke.

The captain walked lazily to his strewn clothing and briefly rummaged. He came up with a folded cloth, which he wordlessly passed to her.

Anna nodded to him and accepted the cloth. Aware that he watched her, she blotted the sweat from her breasts and her belly. Then she cleaned his fluids from her thighs. She knew she should feel some sense of modesty in his presence returning, but she did not.

Anna glanced up at Simcoe, leaning against the wall, his face hard to read..But she saw that he was already going from his spent state to one of readiness again. Not all the way yet, but definitely on the rise.

“I take it, then, you're not done with this argument,” she said. 

“I always like to have the last word,” he replied, pushing away from the wall and walking toward her. 

She tossed the cloth aside.  “Fine.  But upstairs, in bed this time.  And if you're going to run your mouth at me for the rest of the night, you can damn well show me what else you can do with it.”

 The battle raged on until sunrise.


End file.
